


Attachment Issues

by nagi_schwarz



Series: In a Galaxy Far, Far Away [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 22:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Sharing a bed on an away mission."John finally acts on O'Neill's advice...while he and Rodney are sharing a bed.





	

Of all the miserable things to happen in the Pegasus Galaxy thus far, this one took the cake. Rodney had to share a bed with John while they were staying overnight on the Hoffan planet so they could make nice and hopefully access their Wraith cure. Teyla got her own bed in her own room, because she was the only woman on the team. Ford and O’Neill were sharing a bed, sleeping tip to tail. They both had that singular soldier skill of falling asleep whenever, wherever they needed to, and one of them was snoring softly on the other side of the room.  
  
Of course John had that skill as well, so Rodney was left staring at the ceiling, hyper-aware of John’s warmth and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and holding very, very still so they didn’t touch.  
  
For the last few weeks, John had been ubiquitous. Constantly underfoot. Insufferably nice, following Rodney around, hanging onto his every word, helping him initialize things in the lab, doing lightning-fast calculations in his head, making sure Rodney was kept supplied with coffee and snacks. Sure, he went running with O’Neill and Ford in the mornings, and he trained and meditated with Teyla every day, and he listened obediently as Kusanagi taught him to read and write English, but Rodney was never free of his presence.  
  
And it was distracting, and unfair.  
  
These days John wore a uniform instead of his old Jedi robes, and he’d cut off his weird little Padawan braid and kept himself clean-shaven, and apart from the messiness of his hair and his black wristband (and the lightsaber at his hip), he looked like any other soldier (including the pistol strapped to his thigh - and oh, Newton, his _thighs_ ). He wore soldier boots, and he learned how to salute O’Neill and Ford (which was weird, because he was older than both of them, but so were a handful of the Marine NCOs), and he’d started saying things like _cool_ and _ya think?_ and _fer cryin’ out loud_ , but he still said _May the Force be with you_ instead of _good luck_ , and he still called Rodney _Master_.  
  
“Master?”  
  
Rodney blinked. “Wait - what?”  
  
“Master, are you awake?” John’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper.  
  
“No,” Rodney hissed. “I’m asleep.”  
  
“But you just answered me.”  
  
“I’m talking in my sleep.”  
  
“You’re talking coherently.”  
  
“People can sound coherent even when they sleep talk. Any moment now I’ll sound incoherent, though. _We don’t obey the laws of thermodynamics in this house._ ”  
  
A Simpsons reference was completely lost on John. The blankets rustled as John rolled over, closer to Rodney.  
  
“Master Rodney?”  
  
“Still sleeping, here.”  
  
“Rodney. I’m sorry.”  
  
Rodney rolled over to face him, startled. “Sorry for what?”  
  
In the darkness, John’s eyes gleamed. “I’m sorry for - for being so cruel, after I Descended.”  
  
Interesting. He called it _Descended_ instead of _De-Ascended._ “Mindblowing sex isn’t cruel,” Rodney said snippily. “Refusing to engage in it ever again for no good reason is cruel, however.”  
  
John sighed. “You don’t understand. I grew up hearing the stories of Anakin Skywalker and his turn to the Dark Side, how he fell in love with Padme Amidala and his love for her broke him, turned him into a Sith Lord, and he nearly wiped out all the Jedi in the galaxy, including his own son.”  
  
“Well, you’re not Mannequin Slywater, and I’m not Panda Mandala, and neither of us have children to wipe out.”

“I’m the last of my kind. I can’t abandon all I’ve learned -”  
  
“What you’ve learned is stupid.”  
  
“Not all of it.”  
  
“Your telekinesis is, admittedly, handy, but the rest of it - the whole _emotion yet peace, ignorance yet knowledge, no sex at all_ thing is entirely stupid.” Rodney crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from John.  
  
“Not no sex at all,” John said. “Just - attachments and possessive relationships.”  
  
“So we could have mindblowing sex?” Rodney winced at how hopeful he sounded.  
  
“We could,” John admitted.  
  
Rodney rolled back toward him.  
  
John reached out, placed his hand carefully on the mattress between them. “It’s not the sex I’m worried about. It’s the attachment.”  
  
“So, don’t get attached to me.”  
  
“It’s too late for that.”  
  
“So, wait. You _can_ have sex with me, but you’re not supposed to get attached, but since you _are_ attached, you _won’t_ have sex with me.” Rodney flopped onto his back and flung his forearm across his eyes. “You’re insane.”  
  
“Master - Rodney,” John said softly. “I’m not saying this well. I - am attached to you, and I want to continue to be attached to you. And I want to have sex with you.”  
  
Rodney inched his arm aside, peered at John with one eye. “What are you saying?”  
  
John sighed. “I’m still adjusting. I’m the last Jedi. There are no more Sith. I - need help.”  
  
Rodney could only guess at what that admission had cost him. “Help with what?”  
  
John skimmed his hand up Rodney’s ribs, across his chest. He accidentally brushed Rodney’s nipple through the fabric of his t-shirt, and Rodney’s hips twitched, but then John was cupping Rodney’s jaw and guiding Rodney to face him. Rodney rolled toward him, drawn by the relentless gentleness of his touch, and John was looking right at him in the dimness and the shadows.  
  
“Help with what, John?” he breathed.  
  
John kissed him.  
  
They couldn’t go too far, because they weren’t alone, and for all that O’Neill and Ford could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, they could also wake up at the drop of a hat. Rodney broke off their make-out session reluctantly, but he snuggled close to John, who was taller, tucked his head under John’s chin, resting against his chest and listening to his heart. John smoothed a hand up and down Rodney’s back, and damn him, soldier Jedi that he was, he fell asleep.  
  
Rodney laid awake for at least an hour longer, horny and frustrated but also stupidly glad, before he fell asleep. He slid peacefully into dreams, sure of himself and that in the morning, John would still be there.


End file.
